


Don't Stand So Close To Me

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Coach Negan, M/M, Minor Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Rick is pretty and Negan is frustrated, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: AU. Rick is a senior at the high school Negan teaches at. Negan finds him in the locker room after class one afternoon, mourning his breakup with Lori.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an anonymous tumblr prompt for High school coach Negan "comforting" Senior student Rick after Lori broke up with him.

Negan swears the senior year breakups come in waves. It’s like a fucking infectious disease, the way one couple after another is calling it quits. These kids wear their broken hearts on their sleeves, sulking against lockers and crying in the cafeteria while their friends comfort them. He gets it, he does- fuck, it’s high school. Why be shackled to the same Dick or Jane when you’re about to go off into the real world- or college- and discover a whole new dating pool?

He wishes they’d all fucking be _reasonable_ about it, though. Wait it out until summer, at the very least. The way he sees it, these kids are missing out on a good three or four months’ worth of movie dates and dry humping by breaking up in the middle of April like this.

Also, selfishly, he’s fucking tired of a quarter of his senior gym class doing a post-breakup depression trudge during their morning laps around the football field. He’s worried he’s gonna have to drag some kid’s ass out of the locker room mid-cry again like he did last year. It’s not a moment he looks back on with pride, but the kid had been in there for over an hour, bawling about how Brenda or Molly or whoever-the-fuck had dumped him for a guy she met while touring the UGA campus.

Today, however, seems to be one of the quieter days. So far- and he’s on his last class of the day- he’s not seen a single tear shed. Maybe the breakup wave has ebbed a bit? Either way, he’s happy as a goddamned clam as the kids file out at the final bell, ready to call it a day and head home to veg out and dig into the leftover pizza in the fridge calling his name. He notices a couple girls lingering, though. He recognizes them immediately, huddled close together in the corner near the door, and he immediately groans because _no, not today, ladies, take your tearful breakup far away from my fucking gym._

“Michonne! Andrea!” He barks, and they both jump- he didn’t mean for it to come out the loud. He’s still in coach mode, and he tones it down for the next part. “Look, I’m looking to leave here, and the last thing I need is you two over here bawlin’ your eyes out because you decided my gym is a good place to join the ranks of the newly single-”

Andrea snorts a laugh, defensive little spitfire she is. “We’re _not_ breaking up.” She grips her girlfriend’s hand a little tighter at that, and Negan has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, because _high schoolers_. “We’re waiting on Rick.”

At that, Negan’s ears perk up like a lonely dog’s. Rick Grimes is…well, if it was professional, _which is most certainly fucking isn’t_ , Negan would say that Rick is a favorite student of his.

Also unprofessional is the way he’s spent more than one gym class watching Rick Grimes’ ass bouncing around in track shorts. God help him if the kid ever decides to wear sweatpants.

“You girls scoot the f-” he stops himself just in time- “the _heck_ outta here. Can’t have girls lingering around here after class is over. I’ll drag Rick outta there and tell him you’re looking for him.”

They scoot the heck out, and internally Negan can’t help but think that he’s much more likely to say or do something inappropriate around Rick than around them.

He steps into the boy’s locker room and immediately hears little tearful sniffles, and the fact that shit is coming from _Rick fucking Grimes_ does weird things to Negan’s chest. He rounds the first corner of lockers and there he is, looking utterly drenched in sweat and sadness, his white t-shirt clinging to his skin in a way that Negan definitely isn’t eating right up. He startles when he catches sight of Negan, wiping embarrassedly at his flushed face. “Hey, coach. Sorry, I’ll be out soon, I just need to grab a shower real quick.” He pointedly avoids Negan’s eyes as he grabs for his towel, trying to make a getaway, but Negan catches his shoulder, whirls him around so he can get a good look at the red-rimmed eyes and pouty pink lips.

Rick looks a tearful, skittish mess, the light blue of his eyes startling when surrounded by all that puffy pink. It makes Negan want to kiss it better, and he forces himself to let Rick’s shoulder go. “Hey, Grimes. Got somethin’ you need to get off your chest?” Like he hasn’t already guessed.

Rick drops his eyes to the tile floor, shuffling awkwardly. “Lori and I, we…” He sighs, deep and resigned. “We broke up. Or…she broke up with me, I guess.”

Yeah, that’s what Negan thought. It’s too bad, he tells himself, because Rick seems pretty damn broken up over it, and Lori’s a sweet girl.

It’s too bad, really. _Really_.

It’s not hard to be sympathetic toward Rick when he looks like that, like a kicked puppy, all big sad eyes and hair in his face. “That fucking sucks, Grimes.” Shit, he’s not supposed to swear in front of the kids. The vice principal’s laid into him so many times for that shit- but Rick doesn’t seem to notice or care, and he doesn’t strike Negan as a snitch. Loyal through and through, that kid.

“Yeah,” Rick sniffs. “We, uh. I don’t know. It happened a couple days ago, over the weekend, and I just wasn’t ready to see her again so soon, I guess. We’d planned to go to school around here, you know? So we wouldn’t have to do the long distance thing. I was gonna go to the police academy, she was gonna go to college up in Atlanta…” He swallows hard, kicking at nothing. “She applied to some school up in Virginia, just on a whim. Thought she wouldn’t get in, it’s a real good school. She did.” Even though he’s got tears in his eyes, Rick still sounds a little proud of her, and not for the first time Negan thinks, _this fucking guy is too fucking good_.

“Sorry,” Rick says suddenly, shaking his head. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about this. I’ve seen how pissed you get when people whine like this in class.”

“No, it’s…it’s alright,” Negan says, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Shit fucking sucks, kid.” He’s not the best with comfort, usually opting to make people laugh or offering them a drink to forget their sorrows. But Rick doesn’t seem to be in the mood for crude jokes, and the last thing on the fucking planet that Negan needs to be doing is adding a “provided alcohol to an underage person” charge to his list of misdeeds. “And this isn’t class. Bell rings, and I’m not coach Negan anymore. I’m just fucking Negan.”

“Yeah,” Rick mutters. He runs a hand through his damp hair and grimaces. “I know it’s late, but do you mind if I grab a shower real quick? I’m supposed to meet up with some people after and I’m…” he plucks at his sopping shirt, “kind of fucking gross.”

Negan laughs at that, and jerks his head toward the showers. “Sure fucking thing, Grimes. Knock yourself out.” He chides himself for it- fuck, he wanted to get out of here early, but he can’t say no to the kid. Plus- and this isn't a deterrent for Negan, just a fact- Rick is kind of gross right now, sweat-wise. He always gets like this, sweating so much out in the muggy Georgia heat that his curly hair clings to his forehead and neck. And, because Negan is kind of gross, too, it's not a fucking turn-off. Hell, most of the time it just manages to elicit images of Rick, flushed and sweaty and fucked-out, writhing beneath him. 

He turns to leave, he really does, but Rick’s voice calls him back, roots him in place where he stands. “How do you get over it?” He asks, and Negan doesn’t dare turn around because he can _hear_ Rick stripping, the whisper of fabric on flesh and the soft noise as clothes drop to the floor. “Breakups, I mean. I’ve never…Lori was my first girlfriend.”

Jesus, fuck. That’s exactly the kind of thing Negan _doesn’t_ need to know, because now all he’s picturing is Rick, stripped down to nothing, in between the sheets with Lori in his bedroom on some night when his parents aren’t home. All blushing and sweat and skin and nerves, unsteady hands.

 _Fuck_.

“I, ah,” Negan clears his throat, _does not_ turn around until he hears the water running and the swish of a curtain closing. He leans against the furthest stall, back to the cool wall as he watches steam rise up from three showers down. “I may not be the purveyor of the most solid breakup advice, Grimes.” No shit. What he does after a breakup has no place being discussed in a high school locker room with one of his students. “All I can tell you is that you fucking buck up and get over it with time. Find someone else. It’s high school. I know this shit feels permanent right now, but I promise you, it’s not.”

“That what you do?” Rick calls over the patter of the water, “find someone else? Fall in love all over again?”

Negan snorts. “Never said anything about falling in love, Grimes. I just said find someone else. Doesn’t even have to be a long-term thing, just a quick fuck or two to get some strange in your system.” Christ, what is he saying?

He knows what he’s saying, knows what he wants to say. _You let me have a go at you, and you’ll forget all about your achy breaky heart, Rick. I’ll fuck all the bad feelings right out of you. Slide into you so deep you won’t walk without feelin’ me. See if you’re still thinking about Lori with my come dripping out of you._

It’s never that simple, of course, moving on. But goddamn if Negan wouldn’t show him the best ride of his life trying.

_Reign that shit in._

The water shuts off, and Negan’s breathing goes with it. Rick steps out, dripping and towel-clad, and Negan forces his face to remain smoothly disinterested. Rick stands close enough that Negan can trace the rivulets of water beading and running down his chest.

_Too close, too fucking close._

“Is it really that easy?” Rick asks him, face tilted up innocently.

“No. Nothin’ ever fucking is, is it?” Negan hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to Rick as it does to his own ears. He stays put as Rick walks past him back between the lockers, keeping a row in between himself and Rick at all times, tries to take deep breaths and will the blood back up into his brain _where it fucking belongs_.

“Kind of makes for a shitty birthday.” Rick steps out, dressed now, flings his towel aside, and Negan can’t fucking breathe because-

“ _Birthday?”_ There’s no way in hell Rick missed the strain in his voice that time.

“Yeah,” Rick mutters, leaning against the lockers in- yep, fucking sweat pants, because Negan can’t catch a goddamn break. _Do not let your fucking eyes dip below the belt._ “Great way to start my adult life, huh?” Rick muses drily. “ _Congrats, you’re an adult, everything sucks_ ,” he snorts. “We had big plans for today, too. I guess that’s why she did it now, though. Didn’t wanna-” He stops himself, shakes his head. “Nah. It’ll be fine. Like you said, It’s high school, right? I loved her, but we weren’t together for that long. Who the hell marries their high school sweetheart, anyway?”

“Right,” Negan rasps, and then, because he can’t help himself, “what were your big plans?”

Rick’s face turns tomato-red, eyes dropping back to the floor. “I, uh. Nothin’. It was, um. We were gonna just. Go out. See a movie or somethin’.”

His ears are fucking _burning_ and Negan curses whatever godforsaken cosmic force arranged for him to be here today and hear all of this, because he feels like he’s being driven out of his mind with everything that’s being dangled right in front of him. He’s pretty sure this is a personal attack on his extremely lacking self-control.

_Is Rick…?_

“Anyway,” Rick interrupts his train of thought, thankfully. “Thanks, coach. For listening. And letting me grab a shower.” He grabs his bag off the bench and makes for the door, and because Negan only has so much willpower, he reaches out, catches his wrist because he _needs_ to feel Rick’s skin on his own.

“I told you, Grimes. Bell rings, I’m just Negan.” Their eyes lock for a minute, Rick’s pretty blues boring into his own. When Rick’s tongue darts out to wet his full lips, Negan has to bite his own so hard that he tastes blood.

“Right.” Rick’s smile is so fucking gorgeous, Negan prays that he doesn’t look completely deranged when he returns it. “Well thanks, Negan.”

Negan lets his wrist go reluctantly, still feels the warmth in his palm where he held him. He watches the sway of Rick’s hips in loose sweats as he walks away, and calls after him. “And happy fucking birthday, Grimes.”

When Rick’s gone, he retreats into his office and screams into a wadded-up pair of gym shorts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, as promised! And because I have no self-restraint, I plan to make this into an even four parts.

Because life is relentless in its way of taunting Negan with things he can’t have, he runs into Rick later that same night.

Negan’s usual weekend spot is a local dive owned by his friends Simon and Arat. It’s a homey enough place with damn good buffalo burgers and if Arat’s feeling generous, she’ll slip him a free beer or two. He doesn’t frequent it for evening visits during the week normally, but after his earlier encounter with Rick he needs a stiff drink to get his mind off of something _else_ that’s feeling rather stiff.

It’s half past ten on a Wednesday evening, so the place isn’t exactly flooded. Negan makes a beeline for the counter and grunts a greeting to Dwight, the bartender, who is already drawing Negan up a frothy glass of his preferred beer and sliding it over to him.

“You look like shit,” he observes casually, and Negan decides that’s as good a reason as any to chug half the glass in one go.

“Fucking high schoolers, Dwighty boy. I’m telling you, they’re gonna be the death of me. If I ever stop fucking showin’ up here, you can bet your ass it’s because of one of those little shits. You made the smart fucking decision working here. Another day like this, and I may just join you.”

“You know, usually if you work with kids you have to at least pretend you like them,” Dwight points out, and Negan pulls a face.

“Likin’ em is the least of my fucking- _shit!”_ He slams his glass down and whirls on Dwight, who looks unperturbed by the outburst. “What the fuckity _fuck_ , Dwight? I thought you fuckers carded people here!”

“We _do_ , jackass!” Dwight’s eyes follow Negan’s line of sight. “Oh, him? He had an id. Looked damn legit to me. Why, you know him?”

Rick _fucking_ Grimes, in his favorite bar. Haunting him like the goddamned ghost of Christmas past, looking pitifully moody in a booth by himself.

Negan gulps down the rest of his beer and stands. “Yeah, I fucking know him. He’s why I’m here on a fucking school night. Thanks a million, Dwight.”

He’s pretty sure Dwight just flipped him off, but he’s not playing attention to him. No, his focus is on Rick, who’s looked up from his empty glass and is now waving him over.

“Coach! Hey, coach!”

Shit. Fuck fucking shit, if that kid’s waving him over, he’s probably tits-up drunk. The smart thing to do would be to bolt right out the front door.

Negan’s never prided himself on his wisdom, so he finds himself drawn over to Rick’s booth like a moth to a flame. _He’s gonna burn you right up, you jackass. Nothing good can come from this._

He immediately decides that that’s untrue, because the look on Rick’s happy, drunken face when he slides into the seat across from him is so unnaturally beautiful that he can’t help but think that it’s worth whatever frustration this will undoubtedly cause him.

“Hey, coach,” Rick slurs, sitting up on his knees.

Negan makes an annoyed sound in his throat. "Told you it's Negan, kid."

“Right. Sorry. _Negan._ Whatcha doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that, Rick. You wanna tell me what your underage ass is doing in my favorite bar? ” Rick looks positively sinful, cheeks adorably flushed and blue eyes wide. He’s the fucking poster child for bad decisions, both his own and Negan’s.

“It’s my birthday,” he sighs deeply. “Lori and I were…we were supposed to spend the night together. Like, _all_ night.” The way he says it leaves no room whatsoever for doubt, and all of Negan’s earlier questions have been erased and replaced by this new information that Negan _absolutely does not need to know_. “But we…we broke up. I told you that. And Shane threw together a party last minute…tryin' to cheer me up, you know? Except I hate parties. He _knows_ I hate parties.” Rick fumbles with his glass, only to realize belatedly that it’s empty. Negan hates that the pout that follows the realization is endearing. “So I left. I don’t think he noticed. He was makin’ out with some girl. I don’t know. Just didn't feel like bein' there."

Negan breathes deeply and counts to five, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. “So you left your own fucking party, which _undoubtedly_ had free beer, to come here and drink…six dollar beer? _Illegally_?” _And to fucking torment me, don’t forget about that._

Rick grins sloppily, and his lips are such a distracting shade of pink that Negan immediately forgets his annoyance. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh.”

“Really fucking stupid,” Negan agrees. “You see how this puts me in a damn awkward situation, right Rick? My fucking friends run this bar-”

“I’ve got an id!” Rick insists, fumbling it out of his pockets and shoving it at Negan. The picture is definitely of Rick, to be fair, but…

“This says,” Negan grits out between his teeth, trying not to dissolve into a fit of laughter, “that your name is _Bruce Wayne_.”

_Goddammit, Dwight, you useless drink-slinging motherfucker._

“Shane thought it would be funny,” Rick shrugs, reaching for the id- and, because Negan’s an irresponsible fuck who can’t believe that the thing would work on anyone other than a total dumbass, he hands it over.

“Your friend’s an idiot, Rick. Join the damn club.” He looks Rick up and down again, and sighs. “C’mon. We’re getting out of here.”

Rick springs out of his seat, a little wobbly on his feet, and Negan catches him under the arm to help him walk.

Fuck. _Fuck_ , he’s too close, pressed fully against Negan’s side. When he speaks, it’s directly into Negan’s ear, his fingers clutching at the supple leather of Negan’s jacket. “Where we goin’, Negan?”

The sound of his name on Rick’s lips is so utterly delicious that Negan just knows he’ll be replaying it in his head later that night when he’s inevitably rubbing one out before falling asleep. _Goddammit, Rick._

“I’m takin’ your ass home. Can’t let you drive like this.”

“I didn’t drive. I walked. It’s just a few blocks.”

Negan frowns down at him. “You wanna walk home drunk at eleven at night, Rick? Be my fucking guest. But I’m offering you a ride. You’d be wise to take it.” Not like he’s about to let Rick walk back like this, anyway. The last thing he wants is the poor kid getting lost and passing out somewhere, or stumbling into the road…

“No,” Rick says, suddenly soft as butter against him, and Negan feels himself melt. “Take me home. Please.”

On their way out the door, Dwight’s voice calls Negan back. “Hey! That kid didn’t fucking pay yet, Negan!”

“Yeah, well, according to his id he’s fucking _Batman_ , Dwight!” Rick bursts into a fit of giggles under his arm. “You wanna talk about that?”

Dwight grumbles under his breath for a moment. “I’m putting his drinks on your tab, asshole.”

Negan rubs his free hand over his face, Rick still completely oblivious beside him. _This fucking kid._ “Fine!”

It’s not until they get in the car that Rick puts the pieces of the conversation together. “I’m sorry. I can…I can pay you back. Just tell me how much it is.” He looks so worried, and there’s a needy note in his voice, like he _really_ wants Negan to not be angry with him.

“It’s fine, Rick,” Negan sighs, starting up the car. And it really is. “Just…don’t fucking do that shit again, alright? I’m not mad.” He adds in that last part solely because it’s clear that Rick really needs to hear it, and as soon as it leaves Negan’s lips, Rick perks right back up. _Dumb, drunk, adorable moody dumbass._

“Negan?” He asks tentatively. “Can we…can we go somewhere for a little while?” Negan’s stomach drops a couple stories, and he nearly jerks the wheel so they swerve off the road.

_Fuck yeah I’ll take you somewhere, Rick. Take you right back to my place and get you sobered up and in my bed. Strip you naked and finger you open real slow, stretch you and tease you until you’re begging for my cock inside you. Fuck you until you come all over yourself, see how gorgeous those blue eyes look when I break you apart, then flip you over and shove your pretty face into the mattress, see how you like me taking you from behind and coming all over that cute ass-_

“What the hell do you mean, _go somewhere?_ Where the hell do you want to go?” He shouldn’t be asking. Shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of driving Rick anywhere but straight back to his house and leaving his ass there.

“Party’s probably still goin’ on,” Rick says. “Shane said they’d clear out by midnight and move over to his place because my parents would be back by then.” Rick’ eyes are soft and moody, and Negan can’t help but wonder why this kid’s parents aren’t home on his eighteenth birthday and why his dumbass best friend threw this quiet kid an all-night rager that sent him straight into Negan’s arms. “I’d just really rather not be around a bunch of people tonight.”

“You wanna spend your fucking birthday driving around with _me?”_ It slips out before Negan can stop it, teasing and sarcastic and maybe a touch self-depreciating, but Rick just looks at him, open and honest.

“Yeah. If that’s okay.”

_Fuck._

“Yeah,” Negan manages. “Shit, not like I was gonna do anything tonight, anyway.” He looks Rick up and down, assessing. “You eaten anything tonight, Rick?”

“Had some chips before I left the party.”

“Alright. Well, you need to get something in you, then. Preferably something greasy. Some meat.” _Oh Jesus fucking Christ, man._ “A burger," he corrects himself. "Let’s get you a burger. Don’t want you showin’ up tomorrow hungover. Or dropping you off and your parents seeing their precious baby boy dunk off his ass.”

Rick mutters something that sounds an awful lot like _they won’t care_ , and he almost asks.

_Not tonight. Not gonna have him word-vomiting all over me. Or actual vomiting-_

Which is what Rick looks like he’s about to do. He looks positively _green_ all of a sudden, and Negan whips his car into the Hardee’s parking lot so fast that he hears his tires squeal. He parks by some bushes and Rick is lurching out of the car before he’s come to a complete stop. Negan can hear him retching pathetically, and internally groans because he was really hoping to skip this part of the evening.

He gets out and walks over to Rick, who’s hunched over on the curb, shoulders trembling. _Poor stupid bastard_ , Negan thinks affectionately. His hand ends up on Rick’s back without his permission, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades while Rick dry heaves a few more times. After he’s still for a minute, Negan pries away his hand and leans into the open passenger side door, rooting through his glove compartment for the extra napkins he’s shoved in there from his previous late night fast food runs. He presses a handful to Rick, who takes them and wipes a his mouth, head still hanging down like he’s embarrassed. Negan hears a sniffle, and _oh, fuck, please don’t let him be a tearful drunk-_

“’M sorry,” Rick mumbles, “Fuck. This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go.” Negan checks the curb for vomit before sitting beside Rick. His hand is on the boy’s chin then, gently gripping his jaw and tilting his face up to meet sorrowful blue eyes that pierce right through Negan’s chest. “I’m sure this isn’t what you wanna be doing. Hauling some stupid drunk kid around- you get enough of us during the day, the last thing you wanna do is see me-”

_You’re not fucking wrong, Rick. But it’s not for the reasons you think._

“Hey, hey, cut that shit out, alright, Rick?” Negan soothes, “This isn’t how I pictured my night goin’ either but…I don’t fucking mind, alright? If I did, I would’ve left your ass at the bar and just told Dwight to call you a fucking cab or something.” Rick’s face is an intoxicating mixture of smooth and rough under his fingers, the barest scrape of stubble on his sharp jawline, and all Negan can think is _how would that feel under my tongue?_

“Was supposed to be with Lori,” Rick mutters quietly. “Was supposed to…fuck!” He breaks off in a curse, is silent for a second, and then bursts into intoxicated laughter, hiccuping and leaning closer, and Negan feels every shrinking inch between them. Feels when Rick’s hand comes up to rest on his knee, fingers gripping his pant leg.

“You wanna let me in on the joke, Rick?”

“That’s what I was supposed to do tonight,” Rick confesses, chin still resting against Negan’s palm. “ _Fuck_. Me and Lori. Finally. We had it all planned out, were gonna make it special, you know?” Negan internally curses all these fucking goddamned teenagers and their fucking obsession with making their _first time_ special. Damn them all. If Rick and Lori could have just nutted up and fucked in the back of a car like a normal couple then Negan wouldn’t be in this situation where he’s thinking about _himself_ being the first one to take Rick, lay him out between sheets and make him come apart at the seams.

Rick’s face goes red, and Negan realizes he’s been sitting there awkwardly silent in the wake of Rick’s confession. “I, uh. Sorry. I guess you probably didn’t…you don’t wanna hear about-”

Negan cuts him off, because if Rick makes any more even remotely vague allusions to sex, he’s going to have a _big_ problem on his hands. “It’s fucking fine, Rick. So you were gonna lose your v-card tonight. Not a big deal. Trust me, there will be other chances. Other…other people. You’ll have ‘em knockin’ down your door soon enough.”

Rick snorts derisively. “Sure.”

Negan’s hand finds its way to Rick’s forehead, pushing away sweat-damp locks of curling hair. “You fucking will. Don’t make it into some huge fucking deal. Sex is just two people gettin’ off together, Rick. Nothin’ to it.” He coughs, feeling Rick’s gaze weighing a little too heavily on him. “Now get back in the car. We’re goin’ through the drive-thru.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re parked again, this time with a greasy paper bag full of cheeseburgers and fries, plus two milkshakes because Rick had asked him so sweetly, pleading with big blue eyes for a strawberry shake, and who the fuck was Negan to deny him anything?

“Burger first,” Negan says around a mouthful of fries. “It’ll help soak up all the fucking alcohol. The hell were you drinking, anyway?”

Rick makes a truly obscene moan when he bites into his burger, and Negan wants to beat his own head against the steering wheel. “I, uh. I don’t actually know. I don’t drink a lot, so I just told the bartender to make me whatever would get me drunk.” Which, knowing Dwight, means that Rick was drinking extra-stiff Long Islands. “I had just had one.”

Negan snorts into his chocolate shake. “Yeah, I bet you did. If you don’t drink, whatever Dwight gave you probably cleaned your damn clock, Grimes. You fuckin’ lightweight.”

Rick drops his eyes at that, and Negan internally curses. “Shit, Rick. I don’t mean it like that. You’re fucking eighteen. You _should_ be a lightweight. I’m not judgin’. People make it out to be like it’s some huge fucking skill, but when I get my bar tab I’m wishing I could get smashed off of one cocktail.”

Rick lightens up at that- _it's so easy to make him happy_ , Negan thinks- and they chow down in easy silence. Rick’s obedient, finishing his burger and half of the fries before diving into his shake. Negan pops the plastic lid off of his own and starts dunking fries into it, and catches the disgusted look on Rick’s face with a  hearty laugh.

“You’re one of _those_ ,” Rick says, grinning through his abject horror, and Negan flips him off.

“And you’re a judgy little fuck, Grimes! You ever even tried it?” He stuffs another chocolate-dipped fry into his mouth and waits.

“No,” Rick admits, and Negan hoots triumphantly, dipping another fry and holding it out to Rick, palm cupped beneath to catch the drip.

“C’mon, Rick. Open up.”

Rick quirks an eyebrow up at him. “No way. That’s fucking gross.”

“Won’t know for sure ‘til you try it, right? Be a good boy and open up, Rick.” It slips out without him meaning to say it, and he sees exactly how it affects Rick- his eyes go a little wider, pupils swallowing the blue of his irises in the low light of the car.

Rick obeys soundlessly, parting his full lips and allowing Negan to press the food into his mouth.

It goes further than it should, further than Negan meant to take it. _Just put it in there_ , he thinks to himself even as he disobeys and his fingers inch nearer to Rick’s mouth. His thumb just barely brushes Rick’s lower lip, and he would have pulled it back- _he would have_ , except that Rick’s lips close around his fingertips and Negan inhales so sharply that it sounds like a gunshot in the still air between them.

He pulls his fingers out just a second too late. Watches Rick chew, watches his throat work as he swallows, and thinks about that throat being put to good use in other situations. Thinks about it marked up with red and purple bruises that Rick will have to cover up the next day.

Rick licks the lingering traces of salt from his lips, and Negan watches, enraptured.

“What’d you think?” His voice is far too hoarse.

“It was good,” Rick answers, too honest.

The words fall from Negan’s lips, damning him. “There’s a lot of things you would really fucking like if you just tried them, Rick.”

* * *

The drive to Rick’s house is uncomfortably quiet save for Rick’s murmured directions every so often. _Turn here, make a left there._ Negan’s gripping the wheel like he’s in a drag race and not cruising around suburbia at midnight at a forcibly relaxed forty miles an hour.

If he didn’t think it would tip Rick off, he’d be booking it at twice the speed limit so he could get Rick’s ass _out_ of his car and be on his way home to take care of the pressing issue straining against the front of his jeans.

_Be a good boy, Rick. Open up._

There had been the briefest flash of wetness against his fingertips, a flick of tongue. Rick licking him clean. _Fuck_ , it’s all too easy to easy to picture Rick on his knees, mouth wide open and tongue out. His full, pink lips getting swollen and bruised as Negan uses him, hands fisted in his curly hair. Rick would take it so well, he just _knows_ it. Would let Negan slide all the way down his throat, let him come all over his tongue, lick it up and swallow it down like spilled milk, like the little kitten that he is.

_Lot of things you would really fucking like if you just tried them._

Fuck-

“This is it,” Rick says, jerking him out of his fantasy. He’s pointing to a quaintly dull little saltbox place with a neatly groomed front yard. Shane must have followed through on his promise, because there’s only one car in the driveway and the place is dead quiet, all the rowdy teenage souls vacated.

“Right,” Negan says, parking on the curb by the mailbox. “I, uh. I’ll see you tomorrow, Grimes. Get some fuckin’ shut-eye.”

Rick nods, and Negan can see it out of the corner of his eye, feel the boy’s gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look. “Thanks again. For…for everything. For pickin’ me up and gettin’ me food and stuff.”

“No problem, kid.” _Liar._

Rick’s quiet for an endless minute, and then, much to Negan’s immense relief, he opens the passenger side door, puts a foot on the pavement. Negan’s hand is hovering over the gear shift, ready to bolt as soon as Rick is safely tucked away inside his house.

“Negan,” Rick says quietly, and the draw of his name all soft and honey-sweet coming out of Rick wrenches his gaze toward the boy still mostly-inside his car.

“ _Rick_ ,” he grounds out, rough as sandpaper. He wants to say Rick’s name how he’s imagined saying it to him hundreds of times, with heat an insinuation behind it. But he can’t, he fucking _can’t_ , so it comes out as a growl.

Rick moves so fast that he doesn’t have time to anticipate it- _couldn’t_ have anticipated it even if Rick had been moving in slow motion. One second Rick is halfway out of his car, and the next he’s got both hands twisted up in the lapels of Negan’s leather jacket and his lips are pressed to Negan’s parted ones and _oh, fuck_ , Rick’s lips are just as warm and soft as Negan always imagined they’d be-

He gets to enjoy the kiss for a full two seconds before he’s sliding back into himself and shoves Rick violently away so the boy nearly topples out of the car and onto the curb. Negan’s heart is jackhammering in his chest and he’s pretty sure his blood pressure just skyrocketed into the danger zone and Rick’s sitting there, open-mouthed like he’s not sure what the hell to think.

“Get out!” Negan barks into Rick’s face, and he considers the way the boy’s face crumples to be his punishment. “Get the fuck _out_ , Grimes!”

Rick all but scurries out of the car and Negan doesn’t even bother reaching over to close the door, just guns it and lets the zero-to-forty momentum take care of that for him as he leaves Rick in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys just wanted more ust, right??


	3. Chapter 3

Negan feels the insane urge to padlock the front door of his apartment when he gets home, like Rick’s going to come banging it down and demanding something from him- an explanation, an apology. A good, hard fuck right up against said door. It’s too easy to picture, especially fucking _now_ \- Rick, flushed red down to his belly, strong, lean legs wrapped tight around Negan’s waist as he’s slammed relentlessly against the wall, hard enough that he would find bruises there the next morning.

Negan’s hard as steel, feels like he’s going out of his mind. Everywhere he looks, he’s picturing Rick- shoved naked up against the wall, sprawled across the lumpy couch with his knees pressed up into his chest, bent over the tiny kitchen table, legs splayed open to reveal his puffy, abused hole with Negan’s come leaking out of it.

 _Jesus tap-dancing Christ_ , Negan admonishes, _get a goddamned hold of yourself._

He does- literally so, when he strips down to his boxers and crawls blindly into bed, stumbling through his pitch-black bedroom and nearly tripping over his cat in the process earning himself a protesting _meow_. He curses, his aching dick pressing needily into the mattress when he rolls onto his belly.

_Just get it the fuck over with. Not like you haven’t done this before._

He slides a hand down between himself and the mattress, conjuring up the image of Rick lying out beneath him. Shamefully, he revisits the kiss- how soft Rick’s lips had been against his own as he’d sat stock-still and frozen in shock. He could have taken advantage- would have been so easy to grab the boy, kiss him back, see just how far Rick would have let him go in the front seat of his car-

He wouldn't have, though. He's glad that he didn't, but _glad_ isn't doing shit for his dick. Negan grunts, rolling onto his back and stroking himself slow and steady. He pictures Rick straddling his hips, rocking sweetly on his cock. He would look so damn _pretty_ up there- head thrown back, throat bobbing as he gasped and groaned when Negan took control, snapping his hips up into Rick’s tight body and making his cock swing with the thrusts.

He’s insatiable, indecisive. Rick has reduced him to a tense, thoughtless storm of _want_ , and he can’t settle on how he wants the boy. One minute, he’s riding Negan, then he’s on his back, legs hooked over Negan’s shoulders and mouth hanging slackly open around sweet little moans.

Negan’s hand works furiously up and down his length, hips rising off the bed like he’s really trying to bury himself inside of Rick. His mind conjures up the image of Rick taking his dick from atop him, facing away so that he gives Negan a good view of the tense, coiled muscles of his back and his cute ass clenching, stuffed full of cock. He’d look damn _delicious_ like that, bouncing up and down while Negan’s hands found that tight little ass, squeezing hard and watching the place where his dick disappeared up into Rick.

Negan grunts into his fist as he comes, shaking with the overwhelming guilt and pleasure of it. He doesn’t feel great afterwards, either- his whole body is weak, limbs leaden at his sides, and it all hits him at once- him shoving Rick away roughly- _too hard_ , he reprimands himself over and over again. He’d taken all his anger and frustration that he’d felt toward himself and directed it at poor drunk _Rick_ , whom he could only pray would wake up tomorrow with no recollection of the previous night’s events. It was a long shot, since Rick had seemed to sober up a little by the end of it, but maybe...maybe, for once, the world would be kind and Negan wouldn’t have to deal with an awkward, skittish Rick for the rest of the semester.

* * *

Negan has to bribe himself to get out of bed in the morning and not call in to the school and fake sick for the day so he can lie around eating Ben and Jerry’s straight out of the pint and feeling sorry for himself. His first class isn’t until nine-thirty, and though he’s _technically_ supposed to be there when the bell rings at eight, he decides to cut himself a break today and spend that extra time going to get a fresh-brewed cup of coffee from the café ten minutes in the opposite direction of the school. A reward for getting out of bed and not cowering in his apartment to avoid looking Rick in the eye later today.

The coffee helps- wakes him up a little, at least, and now he can see a bright side to last night’s turn of events: thanks to Rick interrupting what would have otherwise doubtlessly been a night of heavy drinking, he’s not the one with a hangover. It’s the only thing he can be unabashedly thankful for- the sound of sneaker soles squeaking against the waxed floors of the gym is like knives straight through his temples when he’s hungover.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t know that from firsthand experience.

He spends the day in an anxious, buzzing haze waiting for his last class of the day- Rick’s class. By the time last period rolls around and the kids are ambling in through the doors, he’s made himself nearly ill thinking of potential scenarios: Rick not remembering at all while Negan suffers through the memory of the kiss on his own, Rick remembering everything and being horrified, disgusted. With himself, with Negan. What if he thinks Negan was taking advantage in his drunken state? What if he told someone- his friends, his parents, the school administration? It makes Negan downright miserable to think of moving again- he’s only just now settling into King County, having moved here a little over a year ago to escape all the shitty memories in his native Virginia. He’s made friends, has a regular bar, an apartment that’s not a complete dump of a bachelor’s pad, a job that he occasionally kind of likes when the kids aren’t being little shits. Or drunkenly kissing him. He really doesn’t want to have all that ripped out from under him, and if it comes out that he’s been inappropriate with a student, there’s no way he’s going to find a job teaching somewhere else, even if he _does_ move again.

He tries to remain aloof as he scans the group, searching out Rick’s curly hair and bright blue eyes. When he doesn’t find him among his classmates, Negan discovers a whole new side of the worry: that Rick wouldn’t show up at all.

And he doesn’t. Shamefully, Negan’s eyes keep flitting to the doors all through the class period, waiting on Rick to come trotting in. It’s only when the kids are heading back into the locker rooms at the end of the period that he’s forced to accept that Rick just isn’t coming, and that brings on a whole new barrage of worries that he’s not going to get answered now. Is Rick so upset with him that he couldn’t bear to come to class? Or is he just hungover and passing it off as a stomach bug to his parents? _Or_ did he tell his parents what happened and now they’re keeping him far away from this school and Negan while they get him fired?

Negan realizes as he’s watching the kids file out of the gym that he booked it out of Rick’s neighborhood before seeing if the boy got in the house, like a responsible person would have. Rick was drunk and upset and alone- did he have a key to get back in? Would his parents have heard him? What if he wandered off again, like he had with his party…?

_Jesus. Get a fucking grip. Where’s all this protective worried mama bird bullshit coming from?_

Somewhere along the line, in between barking at these kids to _get off your damn phone while you’re in my class_ and _you can’t skip the fitness test because you don’t fucking feel like it_ , he’s come to care about them. _Fucking annoying._

He catches sight of Michonne and Andrea heading out, and he tries not to sprint too eagerly to catch them before they’re out the door. “Hey! You two! Hold up for a second.” They slow and turn, wearing twin looks of surprise. “Either of you know where Grimes is today? It’s not like him to skip out on class.” And it’s not, so hopefully it’s not too weird of him to ask. Rick’s missed exactly one class in the year that Negan’s been teaching here, and it was because he had the flu last Spring when it had gone through the school in a sickly wave.

Thankfully, neither of them seem give his question much thought. “He texted me earlier. Said he was sick.” Michonne shrugs. “I guess he’ll be back on Monday. He was looking pretty down last night…I figured it was because of the Lori thing, though.”

Negan forces his face to remain impassive and waves the girls off before turning on his heel back to his office and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Monday. Until fucking Monday. Unless he actually does show up tomorrow…_

* * *

Negan’s able to hold out until the next day with that thought in mind, but when Rick’s a no-show again, he resigns himself to a long, anxiety-filled weekend.

He spends the better part of his Saturday and Sunday at the bar. Dwight doesn’t tend bar until Sunday evening- and when he sees Negan, he immediately gives a jerk of his head and slides him a frothy mug, fresh from the tap. “You look like shit. You hungover or some something?” he asks casually, mopping up spills along the front bar while Negan chugs.

“Still a little drunk from yesterday. Er- from this morning, actually,” Negan corrects.

Dwight whistles, shaking his head. “Who is she? I haven’t seen you drinkin’ this much since that one chick from out of town you got attached to- the hell was her name? Abbie? Amy?”

“ _Amber_ ,” Negan grunts into his drink. “Don’t fucking remind me of that shitshow. Spent a whole week together and I find out she’s just visiting. From fucking _Michigan_. And has an on-again off-again boyfriend. Fuck me, right?” Admittedly, he’s been over that particular incident since he kicked the hangover from the ensuing weekend of drinking that followed. Normally, he’s not one to get attached so fast- probably had something to do with the fact that she was the first person he’d slept with more than once since moving here. Since Lucille.

“Yeah, her,” Dwight agrees, refilling Negan’s mug tentatively, like he’s already keeping count of how long it’s going to take him to cut Negan off. “So. Who is she?”

Negan runs a thumb through the condensation on the outside of his mug, catching the droplets and letting them soak into the napkin he’s using as a coaster. “Not a she, Dwighty Boy.”

Dwight only looks mildly surprised for a moment before brushing it off, and Negan internally rolls his eyes at how dense people can be sometimes. He's spent more than one evening at this very bar, chatting up guys over drinks and sweeping out with them on his arm. “Oh. Who is he, then?”

“ _He_ ,” Negan sighs deeply, “is fucking Batman.” Confusion crosses Dwight’s face, and Negan’s just drunk enough that the slowness makes him mean, makes him snippy. “The fucking kid from Wednesday? The one I dragged out of here?”

At that, Dwight’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry- the kid who called you _coach?”_ There’s a hell of a lot of judgment in Dwight’s voice, but Negan just takes it, lets it settle over him in hope that it will shame him.

“Yep. The very fucking same.”

“ _Jesus_ , Negan, is he even-”

“He’s eighteen,” Negan snaps defensively, and then deflates. “As of last Wednesday.”

“You’re not- you’re not _fucking_ him, are you?”

Negan barks a miserable laugh. “Nope! No, I’ve just been lusting after him like I _want_ to get my happy ass fired from the best gig I've had in years, and because you decided to get him drunk the other night, he fucking kissed me, and he hasn’t been in class since. And I haven’t been able to get him out of my fucking head.”

“Shit,” Dwight says, still with that judgmental note in his voice that makes Negan’s lip curl. “That’s…fucked up.”

Negan downs the rest of his beer and decides that the bar has worn out its welcome for the weekend. He _really_ doesn’t want to be hungover tomorrow, anyway.

* * *

Negan’s losing his mind. He’s losing his goddamned _mind_ , and if he doesn’t sort himself out soon, he’s liable to give himself a stroke at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.

Rick hasn’t been in class all week. It’s Thursday, and Rick hasn’t been in his gym for over a week now. He’s absolutely sick over it, too- he knows it’s because of him, because of what happened. He knows it.

“Oy!” Negan calls at Andrea’s retreating back. “Where the hell has Grimes been? He’s been absent for over a fucking week, this is insane.” He’s slipping, swearing. “He can’t still be fucking sick. I haven’t seen a doctor’s note or anything. If he doesn’t show up soon, I’m gonna have to start docking him grades, and I’d hate to do that so close to graduation.” Like Rick needs another reason to hate him.

“He’s not sick,” Andrea replies, frowning. “I don’t know what his problem is. He’s gonna be pissed I’m telling you, but I don’t know why he’s not here. He’s been in all his other classes since last Friday.”

And _that_ \- that’s the icing on the cake. No pretending that Rick’s not avoiding him or that he doesn’t remember.

“Tell him to get his ass back in class,” Negan says, calm as he can muster. “Or else he’s looking at some serious fucking problems. I don’t want to do it, he’s a good kid, but he can’t keep cutting class. I’ve gotta report that shit if he’s not showing up for a week.”

Andrea nods, says she’ll tell him. Negan feels a bit bad that he had to resort to threats like that, but they’re not empty ones, and not ones that he’s pulling out of his ass, either. As it is, he should be marching down to the principal’s office and letting him know that one of his students has been cutting last period for a week. Given the circumstances, he decides to let it slide for now. As long as Rick shows up tomorrow, they shouldn’t have a problem.

* * *

Rick must have gotten Andrea’s warning, because he’s back in class on Friday, and Negan’s never felt so relieved to see his face among the other students.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to see much of Rick’s face throughout the class. He sees a lot of Rick’s back and the top of his curly head as he avoids Negan’s eyes completely. It sours something inside of Negan, realizing that Rick is now utterly uncomfortable around him. Makes him feel like complete shit, if he’s being honest. He’d gotten by on Rick’s easy, innocent smiles for months, and now that he’s no longer privy to them, the hour seems to drag by unbearably.

He’s not sure what to do- if trying to bring it up again will make it worse. But right now, Rick feels like a time bomb, ticking away while Negan’s left on edge and wondering what’s going to be left of himself when he goes off.

He figures that Rick will be the first out the door when the bell rings, resigns himself to the idea of the boy scampering out of his sight as fast as he can. He doesn’t check the locker room to make sure everyone’s gone, just waves them all out the door, tells them to have a good weekend, and retreats to his office. He sinks into the chair behind his desk, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

_He’s here, at least. He’s back in fucking class, and even if he hates me, it’s better than him ditching and me having to take this shit up with the principal or his parents-_

“Um,” an uncertain voice sounds from the open doorway. “Coach?”

Negan’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and at this point he’s no longer able to distinguish between excitement and dread. Everything about Rick is so tangled and fucked up that he feels constantly on the verge of either popping a boner or being sick to his stomach.

He sighs into his hands, deep and wrenching. “It’s Negan, kid. How many fucking times do I gotta tell you that shit?”

Rick idles in the doorway, and Negan looks up to see him looking torn and timid. “I didn’t- sorry. I didn’t know if you would want me to- I mean, after…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor like a scolded puppy, and Negan feels drawn to him now more than ever, wants to tug the boy closer and reassure him that _nothing that happened was your fault, Rick_.

“Come in here, Grimes. I’m guessing we need to fucking talk.” Rick closes the door behind him, and Negan’s stomach clenches. Unbidden, the thought comes to him: _I’ll see you after class, you naughty boy. Think you can cut school and not get punished? That’s right, bend right over my desk, that’ll teach you-_

He blinks, shaking his head in a desperate attempt to clear the thought away so he can get through this without fucking things up even further between them. Rick slides into the seat on the other side of the desk, looking down at his hands. Negan’s about to speak, but Rick beats him to the punch, his words rushing forward like a horse out of the gate.

“I’m so sorry about last week. I ruined your whole night, and then I- I did what I did, and I shouldn’t have, I _shouldn’t_ , and I know that, I was just…it was a stupid mistake. I don’t know why I did it, and you’re my _teacher_ , I shouldn’t have…” Rick’s face is a vibrant shade of red and he looks like he wants to melt straight into the floor of Negan’s shitty closet of an office.

“Rick,” Negan starts, repeating himself when the boy doesn’t look up at him. “ _Rick_. Slow your fucking roll, tiger. You’re fine. I shouldn’t have…you shouldn’t have been in that car with me at all. I should have called you a fucking cab or something. You don’t need to apologize to me. Like I said before, I don’t mind that you interrupted my night. Probably saved me from the hangover you had the next morning.”

Rick looks back down at his shoes. “I’m…I’m sorry that I kissed you. I know that you- you don’t…I’m sorry.”

 _I don’t what, Rick?_ Negan wants to ask. “Rick. Hey, c’mon. It’s…it doesn’t have to be a big fuckin deal, alright? We can just forget about it.” Negan knows full well he’s unlikely to forget about that kiss for a long, long time, but he’s willing to lie for Rick’s sake. “You just need to keep coming to class, Grimes. I don’t wanna have to report that shit to the school, you’re a good kid. I…I like you.” Even now, he can’t keep the words off his tongue. It’s too much, he knows it, but everything either feels like too much or too little when it comes to Rick Grimes.

“Okay,” Rick agrees.

“Good. And Rick? I’m…I’m sorry I shouted at you. When you…when that shit happened. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t because of you. I wasn’t mad at you, alright?”

Rick blinks up at him, looking confused. “Then why?”

_Shit._

“I…I was just pissed at myself, I guess. That I let it get that far. You’re my student, and you were drunk, and I…” Rick seems to genuinely think that he was the one at fault, and Negan could just let him keep thinking that. It would be so easy. But he _can’t_ , he just can’t, not with this fucking kid. “I wasn’t acting like I should have with you. It let it get too fucking far, and that’s on me.”

“Oh,” Rick says quietly, and Negan can’t quite read the look on his face, all furrowed brows like he’s trying to put the pieces together in his head. It’s silent in the office for a moment that stretches out for so long that Negan can feel nervous sweat prickling on the back of his neck. He’s not sure what to do now- doesn’t want to unceremoniously eschew Rick from his office, but he has no clue what to say next, if there’s even anything left to be said at all. Rick just has this look on his face, all adorably flustered and confused, and Negan’s eyes start to wander down Rick's body, taking in his shower-damp hair and the way his t-shirt clings to his torso. He’s in sweatpants again, and Negan’s gaze keeps falling naturally to his crotch the way he’s sitting with his legs spread a little. He licks his lips unconsciously, thinking about how easy it would be to slide his hand beneath the waistband, and snaps out of the fantasy a second too late. He wrenches his eyes away and back up to Rick’s face, and Rick’s looking at him differently now. _Curiously_. It makes Negan’s whole body seize up, feeling very much like he’s been caught red-handed.

Rick’s legs spread a little wider, just a couple inches, and Negan’s rooted to the spot, eyes trained on Rick’s because he _absolutely_ can’t let them fall further down again. They’ve been quiet far too long for Negan’s liking, and he wrenches himself out of his chair and to his feet, jostling the desk a bit in his haste. “Alright. If that’s all, Grimes, I’ll- I’ll fucking see you on Monday.”

Rick rises from his seat, and Negan’s mind is cruel and swimming with so many inappropriate thoughts that it makes him think for a moment that Rick looks almost disappointed. But _no_ , he insists. _No, you need to get your fucking head on straight. You need to get him out of this office before you do something colossally idiotic._

Rick’s fingers are on the doorknob, and he’s saying _"See you Monday, Negan"_ , and Negan does something colossally idiotic.

“Rick-” the boy’s hand stills. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Does it matter?” Rick asks, turning to face him. Negan’s drawn closer, swaying forward until they’re a couple feet apart, Rick looking wide-eyed up at Negan.

“Just wondering,” Negan rasps, the strain in his voice betraying the air of nonchalance he desperately wishes he was giving off.

“Why d’you wanna know?” Rick takes a step forward, head tilting charmingly, and Negan should be backing up. Should be shutting this down, shouldn’t have asked at all. Rick’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Negan has to bite down on his own tongue to strangle the desperate sound of want that threatens to escape from his throat.

“Just thought I’d fuckin’ ask, _Rick_.” He doesn’t exactly mean for Rick’s name to fall from his lips sounding like that- like a purr, dragging out a little too long and hanging insinuatingly in the air between them.

Up this close, Negan feels every inch of their height difference. Rick has to tip his head up to look him in the eye, and it makes Negan want to find out how Rick would look underneath him, curly head pillowed on soft sheets.

“I was drunk,” Rick says, and Negan thinks that’s going to be it, but it’s not. “And I _wanted_ to.”

He _wanted_ to. Negan’s brain nearly short-circuits at the thought, at the open honesty on Rick’s pretty face.

“You _wanted_ to,” Negan repeats hungrily. “You always just do whatever the fuck you _want to do_ , Rick?”

“No,” Rick’s voice is hoarse. “Not like- not like that.”

Oh, Negan knows it. “I bet you don’t, Rick. Because you’re a _good boy_ , right?”

The first time he'd let that line drop in the car, he could have chalked it up to a slip of the tongue. This time, there’s nowhere to hide, his words chosen carefully to draw a reaction out of a bright-eyed Rick.

It works. Rick bristles, his face flushing a sweet shade of pink. “I- maybe I don’t wanna be.”

“Yeah? What do you want, Rick?” Negan coaxes, hand coming up to rest on the filing cabinet Rick’s standing next to, making the small space they’re enclosed in seem even more intimate. Negan can hear Rick’s shallow breaths, see the rise and fall of his chest beneath his thin t-shirt. Wants desperately to ruck it up, strip it off, make his pant and moan beneath his tongue. Rick looks utterly conflicted, and Negan wants to shove him right over the edge, see where they land.

He can’t make the first move. He’s frozen, knowing that if he’s somehow reading this all wrong and does something Rick's not really wanting, he’s utterly and completely fucked.

“I shouldn’t,” is all Rick says in reply, but it’s uncertain, weak.

Negan chooses his words carefully, trying to make him snap.

“Sometimes you gotta take a fucking _chance_ , Rick. See where it gets you. You’ll never get anything you want if you don’t make a damn move.”

Rick squirms, his knee bumping Negan’s. “ _Shouldn’t_ ,” he repeats, and it seems like he’s trying to convince himself and failing miserably.

Negan leans in close, his words the ghost of warm breath on the shell of Rick’s ear. “ _Do it._ ”

He does.

Rick turns his head and their lips meet without either of them having to move in closer. Negan’s floored for just a moment, frozen as Rick’s lips move soft and tentative against his own, and he hesitates for a second too long. Rick pulls away, looking confused and crestfallen.

Negan kisses that look right off of him, cupping the sides of his face and tilting it up so that their mouths meet again, and Rick makes a sweet, needy sound in his throat that stokes the fire burning between Negan’s thighs. One second, he’s kissing Rick slow and gentle, and the next he has the boy up against the wall, one hand fisted in the soft material of his shirt, knuckles brushing warm skin. _Fuck, fuck fuck_ , he can’t help but think, _he’s fucking perfect_. Rick’s hands are scrabbling at Negan’s back, scratching like he’s trying to pull him in closer, which is damn near impossible at this point since Negan’s hips are pinning Rick’s to the wall. Negan’s tongue invades Rick’s sweet mouth, tasting him, and Rick makes a low noise that’s nearly a groan.

Negan’s judgment has sailed right out the door. He growls deep in his throat, his hands sliding down to grope Rick’s ass through his sweatpants, and Rick’s breath hitches as Negan’s hands greedily knead him, grinding their hips together. When Negan feels it, his eyes nearly roll back into his skull- Rick’s _hard_ , the thick outline of his dick pressing against Negan’s own, and the friction makes him whine, makes Negan _want_ so badly that it nearly hurts.

Negan’s lips find the sensitive skin of Rick’s neck, sucking sloppy kisses there that he tries to keep light enough so they don’t leave any incriminating marks. Rick’s hands have roamed down and slid up underneath Negan’s shirt, and Negan finds himself slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of Rick’s sweats before he can think better of it. He’s rewarded with two handfuls of soft, firm ass, completely bare beneath his palms, and he groans hungrily into the curve of Rick’s neck, bucking into him.

“Oh, _Rick_. You naughty fucking boy, going commando like this. You fucking _tease_.” He squeezes him hard and Rick _whines_ , muscles clenching, and Negan wants desperately to yank those loose pants down to his ankles and fuck him so hard up against this wall that he’ll be limping out of Negan’s office when they’re done.

Rick sucks in a shocked breath, his fingernails biting into Negan’s shoulders beneath his shirt. “Ne- _Negan_ , I- I don’t…I-” Negan presses one final kiss to the hollow of his throat before pulling back when he feels Rick tremble against him.

“Hey. _Hey_ , Rick.” He tips the boy’s head up to face his own and is met with kiss-swollen lips and cheeks painted a bright, aroused red. “It’s alright. I’m not gonna- we don’t have to fucking-” He takes a deep, shaky breath, regaining a fraction of his composure. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Rick breathes, still gripping at him. “Yeah, I just…I’ve never…”

“I know,” Negan reminds him gently, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to Rick’s temple, watching as the boy’s eyes flutter closed. “I know you haven’t. It’s alright. I’m not gonna rush you. Got a little fucking ahead of myself.”

“I _want_ to, though.” Rick’s eyes are the brightest, clearest blue. “That’s what I want. Just…not here.”

Negan nods, forces himself to pull away. He likes how Rick instinctively chases him a little, swaying forward before catching himself and straightening. Negan catches sight of the obscene bulge in the front of Rick’s pants, the swollen line of his cock clearly visibly through the material. He swallows roughly, makes himself look away so he doesn’t get too tempted to yank them down and get a better look.

He snatches his phone off his desk, opening a new text message. “What’s your number, Rick?”

Rick recites the numbers and Negan jots them down along with his invitation. Rick’s phone vibrates audibly in his pants pocket, and Rick draws it out, glancing at the screen. “ _Tomorrow, 7 pm..._ ” he reads aloud. “Is this your address?”

“Yep,” Negan says smoothly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Come over. I’ll make you dinner.” When Rick looks wary, he holds his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. And if you do come, it doesn’t mean we have to do…anything. Just fucking means we’ll have dinner. Anything past that is up to you.”

Rick smirks up at him wryly. “Is this a _date?”_

Negan snorts. “If that’s what you fucking want it to be, Rick. Sure. It’s a fucking date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> negan: i could lose my job  
> also negan: rick booty tho


	4. Chapter 4

Negan’s lost his goddamn mind.

Which is why he’s at home on a Saturday evening, freshly showered and unbagging groceries for a home-cooked dinner with Rick Grimes. The whole ordeal is insane for a number of reasons- to start, Negan just spent the last week flipping his shit thinking that he was going to get fired if Rick blabbed about their kiss. And yet here he is, chopping garlic to make him his classic first-date carbonara and hoping that he’ll get a taste of more than Rick’s lips before the evening is through.

That’s another thing- the  _cooking_. Back in his college days, this had been his go-to move to impress a date that he wanted to keep around for more than a quick fuck. Hell, Negan’s pretty sure that it was this exact dish that made Lucille decide he was worth keeping around- not a lot of twenty-two year old guys living in an unkempt student apartment with three other people knew how to make toast without setting off the dorm sprinklers, much less whip up a mean spaghetti carbonara from scratch. It's not a meal he makes lightly. If he just wanted to fuck Rick to get it out of his system, he would have ordered in a pizza or invited him over under the pretense of “getting to know each other” or watching a movie, something lazy and obvious in its pretense. Instead, he didn’t correct Rick when the boy had asked if it was a date, and he’s making a meal that screams  _please keep coming back for more._

It’s an alarming thought, he realizes as he breaks the uncooked spaghetti in half and dumps it into the bubbling pot of water on the stove. He’s not just looking to have a singular night of fun with Rick, but a full-fledged affair.

 _Affair_. It’s a terrifying word, one reserved for illicit encounters between cheating lovers and people like him who let their eyes linger a little too long on their cute students or secretaries.

It’s certainly not stopping him from carrying on full steam ahead, though.

His phone vibrates on the counter with a text from Rick around six-forty:  _I’m leaving now, be there soon._ The giddy rush Negan gets is nothing short of juvenile. “Damn teenagers rubbing off on me,” he mutters under his breath good-naturedly. He can’t quite commit to the annoyance he knows he should feel- it’s been a damn long time since he’s felt this hungry for another person, and he has to admit that it’s kind of exhilarating. All of his encounters in the last three years, even the ones like Amber that had lasted for more than a tipsy night, have been predictable in a way: go to a bar, usually the same damn bar he’s always at, hit on hot strangers until something sticks. No pretense of attachment or deeper meaning, no hard feelings if the guy he’d been sure would swing his way ended up being straight as a rod or if the woman he’d tried out a cheesy pick-up line on turned him down flat. That’s how he wanted it- no feelings, no attachment, just two people mutually interested in getting off together.

Rick threw a wrench in all of that, and damn if Negan’s not practically bouncing on his heels to see where this goes.

Rick knocks on Negan’s door at seven on the dot, and Negan snorts to himself and wonders if he lingered outside for a moment so that he could be perfectly on-time. He leaves the spaghetti to boil on the stove and pulls the door open to be greeted with the arresting sight of Rick Grimes on his doorstep, looking first-date fresh and groomed. He didn’t shave, Negan notes with some glee- he’s still donning that light stubble that makes Negan want to rub up against him like a cat. However, his hair is neatly combed back instead of hanging limp and sweaty in his eyes like it usually is when Negan sees him in class, and he’s wearing dark jeans and a crisp blue button-up that make his eyes look startlingly crystalline. When he catches on to the way Negan’s eyes are dragging over him, he flushes a pretty shade of pink and Negan grins wolfishly.

_Oh, tonight’s going to be real fucking fun._

“Come on in, Rick. I’m just about done with dinner.” He bolts the door behind them and catches Rick anxiously rubbing his palms on the thighs of his jeans and fiddling with his own hands.  _Poor thing’s nervous as fuck_ , he realizes, and he comforts Rick in the only way he knows how, by sliding a warm hand around the boy’s waist and settling it on the small of his back, urging their bodies a little closer and nearly purring with contentment when Rick comes to him willingly. “No need to be fucking  _nervous_ , Rick,” he murmurs into his ear. “I’ve got you.”

Rick shudders subtly against him, his eyes flitting uncertainly to Negan’s mouth before darting back up to his eyes. Negan can’t help himself- he tips Rick’s chin up with his fingers and leans in close, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that Negan has to consciously hold himself back from deepening. He allows himself a dip of his tongue into Rick’s minty-fresh mouth and then forces himself to pull away before he decides to let dinner boil over while he bends Rick over the kitchen table and eats  _him_  instead. He releases Rick’s lips with a soft, wet sound and bites back on a groan when he notices how Rick instinctively lilts forward for a second, chasing the contact before he catches himself and straightens back up. Negan runs long fingers through the curls at the nape of Rick’s neck and presses a kiss to the stubbled skin of Rick’s sharp jawline, inhaling his clean, soapy scent.

“Thanks for comin’, Rick,” Negan rumbles and Rick gives a breathy laugh that sounds a touch less nervous than before.

“Yeah. Um. Thanks for havin’ me. It smells great in here.” He trots along after Negan into the kitchen like a puppy, and Negan briefly entertains  _that_  idea- petting Rick’s hair as he kneels at Negan’s feet, getting a nice leather collar to loop around his neck and tug on when he wants Rick back on his feet…

_Focus, Negan._

He drains the pasta and turns the stove off, and Rick leans up against the counter, looking unsure of what to do with himself.  _Make him comfortable_ , Negan thinks wildly.  _Never gonna get anywhere if he’s fiddling with his collar and looking at the floor all night._

He ladles up a bit of the sauce, pressing light fingers to Rick’s lips to get him to turn toward him. “Taste this for me, would you, Rick? Open up.” Rick’s face colors at that, but he also smiles, the curve of his mouth looking almost flirtatious as he closes his lips around the spoon.

“Mm,” he purrs, licking his lips when the spoon disappears. “This is really good, Negan.”

Negan chuckles, turning to grab a couple plates. “You sounds a little fucking surprised, Rick.”

“You didn’t strike me as the cooking type,” Rick shrugs. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

“I’m full of surprises, Rick. Now take a seat. I want to see your face when you get a mouthful of this.” Rick goes pink again, and Negan  _swears_  these things just naturally happen to come out of his mouth. Rick takes a seat across from him at the small dining table, their ankles bumping under the table. There's little in Negan's apartment that's built for two.

“What’s the fucking deal with your parents?” Negan asks when they’ve both settled into their meal. It's something that's been bothering him since the night Rick got drunk.

“Oh,” Rick says, catching his meaning immediately and looking a bit embarrassed. “It’s not really…it’s not as bad as I made it sound. Really!” he insists at Negan’s doubtful look. “They’re just away a lot lately. They went to couples counseling or something trying to stave off a divorce and now they’re really into taking weekends away. Or weekdays. Whatever. I’m not being neglected or anything. It’s recent, anyway. Why?”

“Because I don’t wanna be some fucking cliche where you just want me to like you because you’re starved for your daddy’s attention or some shit. I don’t know.” Like he’s not already enough of a cliché- emotionally detached man becomes obsessed with his innocent young student.

Rick gives a disgusted snort into his pasta. “It’s not like that, Negan. I just like you. You’re not old enough to be my  _daddy_ , anyway.” He says, mocking the word a little and Negan  _definitely_  doesn't linger on the word coming out of Rick's mouth.

Negan smirks. “How old am I, Grimes?”

Rick looks him up and down, brows knitted in concentration. “Twenty-nine.”

“Fuck you, Rick,” Negan chuckles fondly. “I’m twenty-eight.”

Rick scoffs, grinning. “ Close enough. I don’t like you because you’re… _mature_  or whatever. Because you’re not.” Negan would be offended if it wasn’t accurate. “I like you because you don’t give a shit, and I…can’t imagine feeling that way. Can’t imagine a life where I’m a person who’s not planning six steps ahead and worryin’ about the future. You know Lori and I had our kids’ names picked out? We hadn’t even screwed, and we were talkin’ marriage and babies and five year plans. And me overthinkin’ things was why we didn’t have sex. I was so worried about the right place and the right time and making sure we had as little risk of pregnancy as possible. So fucking worried about the  _what ifs_  that I never just let myself enjoy it. But you…” Rick looks up at him, not a lie in his pretty face. “You just  _do_  things. You swear in class and don’t worry about gettin’ caught. You let us ditch early and sneak pizza in from the teachers’ lounge. You’re not scared of life.”

Negan holds back the snort of laughter that threatens to escape, because he'd just spent the last week in a spiral of hellish anxiety. “I’m scared of plenty, Rick. I just don’t show it as much. I just say ‘fuck it’ and do dumb shit anyway. Being scared keeps you outta a whole lot of trouble.”  _If I listened to that fear every once in a while like you do, I probably wouldn’t be doing something as dumb as trying to fuck you_ , Negan thinks. 

“It also keeps you from living.” Rick says. “For once, that’s what I wanna do. With you.”

Negan had figured as much- that their flirtation is the product of Rick’s pent-up frustration with his own inhibitions. Nothing says  _I do what I want_  like fucking someone you know you shouldn’t.

Negan finds that he’s completely fine with that.

“I’m more than fucking happy to help you live a little, Rick,” he says around a sip of water, and Rick’s mouth curves into a small smile that Negan wants to make appear on his face again and again.

* * *

Rick must have been made in a lab or something- the perfect little southern gentleman. There’s no other explanation for why he’s currently in Negan’s kitchen, soaping up not only their dishes, but also the pots and pans Negan used to cook their meal.

“Rick,” Negan repeats for the third time as he watches the boy’s hands work. “You don’t have to fucking do that shit. I was just gonna throw it in there with some water and let it sit.” His attempts at dissuading Rick aren’t entirely wholesome- it’s about ten percent him not wanting to burden Rick with something so menial on a fucking  _date_ , and the other ninety percent is him lacking the patience to give Rick ten minutes to wash up. He has a tentative, fragile hold on himself right now- his arms crossed over his chest to keep them off of Rick, one ankle draped over the other while he leans against the countertop, forcing himself to keep his foot from tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor. It can’t be helped. He’s so fucking  _close_  that he could reach out and take a taste of Rick if he let himself, and with Rick’s backside to him, his eyes keep wandering down to the curve of his perky ass in his neatly-fitted jeans.

“I don’t mind, Negan! Really, you cooked. It’s the least I can do.” He throws a winsome smile over his shoulder before returning to the dishes, and Negan has to shift his weight a bit to accommodate the growing problem in his pants.

“Well aren’t you just  _mister hospitality,”_  Negan muses.

Rick laughs, soft and sweet. “Just good manners, Negan. I’m sure you’ve got some of your own buried deep down in there.” The smile Negan gets this time is different- flirtatious and sultry, like Rick’s just shy of dropping a wink in his direction, and it wrenches Negan right out of his relaxed position against the counter. He’s behind Rick in an instant, pressed flush against the boy’s backside and his hands slide over his hips, gently at first and then gripping firmly, pulling Rick back against him. Rick lets out a surprised gasp, and Negan drapes himself over him, lips at his ear.

“Goddamn, Rick. You’re just a big fucking  _tease_ , aren’t you?” He squeezes Rick where he’s holding him, thumbs dipping under the waistband of his pants and rucking up his crisply tucked shirt just enough so that he can touch warm skin. He noses behind Rick’s ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, and Rick shudders back against him. Negan hooks his chin over Rick’s shoulder and see that he’s no longer tending to the dishes, his sudsy fingers now gripping the edge of the sink so hard that his knuckles have gone white. Negan’s own hands slide up under Rick’s shirt, feeling his muscles draw tight under the warm touch.

“N-Negan-”

“Hm?” Negan hums in question while his fingers toy with the lowest button on Rick’s shirt. “Somethin’ to say, Rick?” He flicks the button open, and Rick makes a small sound that’s almost a squeak.

“You know, I just fucking realized,” Negan says casually as he works Rick’s shirt open, “we never had dessert.” His thumb grazes one of Rick’s nipples, already pebbling in the cool air. “That’s a damn shame, Rick. Completely fucking slipped my mind. I’m sorry about that.”

Rick’s breaths are coming quick and erratic, his hips pressing back into Negan’s. “I- that’s alright. I don’t mind,” he promises, and Negan chuckles darkly against the side of his neck.

“Is that right? You don’t mind not gettin' a taste of something sweet?” He pinches the hard nub of Rick’s nipple between his fingers, gently so as not to scare him off, and he can feel it when Rick lets out a hitching gasp.

“N-no. No, I don’t mind.”

“Mm,” Negan purrs, kissing his way up Rick’s neck to his ear again. “Well,  _I_  do. So come here.” He spins Rick in his arms and brings their mouths together, devouring him while one hand slides back to grab a handful of the cute backside that had been distracting him before. “What do you say, Rick? You gonna let me have a taste of you?”

Rick hesitates, and Negan feels it. In that brief second of doubt, he internally curses and begins to pull away, but Rick stops him with an eager hand on his arm, holding tight. “I want this. I do.” His voice is firm even though Negan can tell he’s nervous, betrayed by the slight tremor in his fingers against Negan’s forearm. “Just…you know that I’m…I maybe not be…very good.” His intense blue gaze drops to the floor, cheeks flushing with shame, and Negan is quick to gather the boy into his arms, cupping the back of his head and stroking the soft curls there.

“Don’t fucking worry about that, Rick. I mean it. Just let me take care of you.” He licks his lips.

“I…I don’t know how to…”

“Shh,” Negan hushes him, stealing a quick kiss from his lips. “I’ll _teach_ you.”

Rick gives a breathy laugh at that, seeming to relax into Negan’s arms again, and Negan takes the opening to tug him forward and lead him out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

He had tidied up a bit this morning before Rick came over so that he wouldn’t be seducing Rick in a sloppy room scattered with unwashed clothes and cat toys. The bed is neatly made for what’s possibly the first time since Negan bought it, and there’s nary a empty cereal bowl or half-eaten package of Oreos to be seen.

He pulls away a little, grinning when Rick clings to him, unwilling to be parted. “Take your clothes off for me, Rick. C’mon.”

Rick’s shirt is already undone and halfway off his shoulders, so he simply shrugs out of it and lets it drop to the floor before reaching with shaky hands for his belt. Negan folds back the comforter on the bed so they can easily slip between the sheets, eyes still on Rick, who’s flushed all the way down his chest as he works open his jeans. They’re halfway down his thighs when he glances up to see Negan perched by the edge of the bed, watching him. “Aren’t you gonna…are you just gonna watch me?”

Negan grins. “Right now I am. I want to fucking see you. C’mon, get it all off.”

Rick’s ears are bright red with embarrassment, but he obeys-  _like a good boy,_  Negan thinks heatedly. He shoves his jeans aside with his foot and only hesitates a brief second before tugging down his boxers, too. Negan nearly growls at the sight- Rick’s cock, stiff and thick and flushed as pink as the rest of him, springing up and bobbing in the cool air.

_Oh, fuck yeah. I definitely want dessert._

He lets Rick squirm under his gaze for a few seconds, enjoying the view, before pulling the boy to himself and running his hands over his soft sides and kissing him as he guides him back onto the bed. Rick goes willingly, sprawling on his back and spreading his legs  _so nicely_  when Negan crawls up after him. Negan’s palms glide up Rick’s naked thighs, watching as Rick’s hips twitch upward at the touch. He lets his lips follow the same path, mouthing over sensitive skin and up to the crook of Rick’s thigh and enjoying the breathy noise Rick makes in response.

“You ever get this far before?” he asks, breath ghosting over the slick head of Rick’s cock.

Rick nods, his hands fisted in the dark gray sheets. “Y-yeah. A few times-” if he had been planning on elaborating, Negan doesn’t get to hear it, because Rick’s words are swallowed up in a helpless cry when Negan dips his head and licks a slow, broad stripe up the underside of Rick’s dick. He’s even more determined now, knowing that Rick will have something to compare this to. He presses a wet kiss to the glistening head before closing his lips around it, teasing the slit with his tongue and tasting Rick properly.

“Oh, oh, Christ-” Rick whines as Negan’s mouth glides down his length, taking him in to the hilt. He’s holding back, too polite to do anything brash and selfish like bucking his hips up or grabbing ahold of Negan’s hair.

_That won’t fucking do at all._

He releases Rick’s cock with a wet pop and Rick’s eyes fly open, looking shocked and almost comically devastated, and Negan has to bite back a laugh. “Just do what feels good, baby. You wanna fuck my mouth? Grab my hair? You fucking  _go_  for it. Let me have it all.”

Then he grips Rick’s hips and swallows him down in one smooth, practiced movement and Rick’s wail of pleasure echoes off the walls, loud and unabashed in its need. He’s not as shy now, his hands eagerly sliding into Negan’s hair and his hips arching up off the bed as Negan sucks him. Negan pulls out all the stops, taking Rick down to the base and swallowing smoothly around him before drawing back with hollowed cheeks and playing with the thick vein on the underside of Rick’s cock. Briefly, he gets distracted by Rick’s balls, mouthing them and taking them into his mouth, fascinated by the different noises he can draw out of Rick. When he dips lower, releasing his hold on Rick’s waist to grip at his firm ass, squeezing and using his thumbs to pull him open, Rick’s breathing hitches uncertainly.

The sounds that comes out of him when Negan leans in to lap at his tight opening is much more certain- a high-pitched keen that turns into a throaty moan when Negan licks into him, tongue tracing the rim before teasing the opening. “Negan!” Rick yelps, hips pushing back into his face. “Oh,  _god-”_

He can hear it when Rick gets close- he’s every bit as vocal as Negan hoped he would be, panting and moaning when one of Negan’s hands comes up to stroke his cock, sliding wet and hot in his palm while he works his tongue in and out of Rick’s body. His fingers are practically yanking at Negan’s hair now, and Negan’s loving every second of it- the sharp, tugging pain, the sound of Rick’s pleasure-filled cries above him, the way his whole body seized up and shakes violently as he comes, cock throbbing under Negan’s hand as slick wetness pools on his stomach.

Negan takes a taste of him, his mouth on Rick's belly, and feels Rick’s muscles pull taught under his tongue. “That- that was-” Rick fumbles out, his curly hair beginning to stick to his forehead in an endearingly cute way.

Negan laughs and cups his face in one hand, kissing him slow and sweet and pushing his hair back. “Yeah. I fucking know it was, Rick.”

Rick comes back to himself a little, looking embarrassed. "I- was I supposed to...?" Negan cocks his head, confused. "I'm sorry I didn't...last very long."

Laughter bubbles up out of Negan, and he moves over Rick, his clothed body rubbing against Rick's bare one, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. "That's alright, baby. Just means I'll have to make you come all over again."

While Rick catches his breath, Negan quickly strips and gropes for the lube he keeps in his bedside drawer. He feels Rick’s eyes following him as he moves and feels a prideful swell of satisfaction. “You likin’ what you see, Rick?” he teases.

Boldly, Rick licks his lips and nods his head. “Yeah. I do.” His eyes flit from Negan’s chest to the small tube clutched in his hand, anxiety skittering across his face. His teeth sink into his soft, plump lower lip, and Negan, in a flash of selfish lust, wants nothing more than to straddle Rick’s face and put those lips to good use, get them nice and swollen and bruised. He thinks of that, fucking Rick’s mouth and coming all over his face, and nearly comes right then.

_Maybe another day. Not his first time. Break him in easy._

Instead he kisses Rick’s cheek in a sweet gesture that surprises even himself. “Turn onto your stomach, baby,” he croons softly, and Rick does, pillowing his head on his arms and letting out a deep, shuddering sigh.

Rick Grimes’ ass has been the subject of the majority of his waking and sleeping dreams as of late, so Negan gives himself a moment to appreciate Rick completely bare before him for the first time. There are twin dimples at the small of his back, inviting Negan to line his thumbs up with them and grab his waist. His ass is perky and firm, and for a brief moment Negan entertains the idea of what it would look like slapped a warm, bruised red from Negan’s hand. He wonders if Rick would like that- if he’d cry out at the blows and rut against the mattress to try to get off from that alone.

 _Slow. Easy,_ Negan reminds himself.

He slides his hands up Rick’s thighs, pushing his knees apart and giving his ass a two-handed squeeze before pulling him open. His entrance is still shiny and wet from Negan’s mouth, and as much as Negan is tempted to bury his face back into him, his dick is absolutely aching to be inside.

Rick startles when Negan cracks the lid of the tube and tenses, hole clenching, when two slick fingers rub over him intimately. “Rick,” Negan says, his free hand rubbing the boy’s hip encouragingly, “have you ever touched yourself here before?”

Rick squirms further into the bed, and Negan wants fiercely to grab the boy’s hair and see how red his face is. The blush has spread over the tips of his ears and down his neck. “I, um. I tried to…today. In the shower before I came over.” Rick buries his face into his arms, and isn’t  _that_  a fucking image- Rick tentatively exploring his body to prepare himself for Negan. “I don’t have lube so I didn’t, um…get very far.” Negan can hear the shy embarrassment in Rick’s voice and squeezes his hip gently, bending to kiss the small of his back.

“I’m gonna go slow, alright? You fucking tell me if you don’t like it, alright Rick? I mean it, you want to stop, all you gotta say is  _stop_.”

Rick lets out a shaky breath, nodding. “Alright.”

Negan’s fingers resume their gentle stroking, letting Rick get used to being touched there before he adds pressure to one fingertip, dipping it inside. “Relax, Rick. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” He feels the boy slowly relax, letting him in. “There you fucking go, baby,” he croons, pumping in and out. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The soft-spoken praises seem to encourage Rick, and it’s not long before Negan’s able to push a second finger inside, scissoring and crooking them while Rick makes muffled sounds into his arms.

Negan groans at the sight of it, his fingers buried deep inside of Rick, one hand pulling a soft cheek aside so he can get a better view. His dick is so hard it nearly hurts, and if he didn’t think he’d be putting himself in danger of coming too early, he’d reach down and give himself a few strokes just to relieve himself a little. All he wants is to replace his fingers with his cock and fuck Rick fully.

“O-oh! Negan!” Rick cries throatily when he crooks his fingers just right, muscles clenching as his hips push back onto Negan’s hand.

“That’s right, Rick. Feels good, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know it does, baby.”

“More, more, please,” Rick begs. “ _Please_ , Negan, I want- I want-”

The sound of Rick begging- for him, for  _more_ , makes Negan’s dick ache.

“You want more, Rick? You want my cock in you?” He’s already got a hand on himself, wet and slick, shuddering with the pleasure of something as simple as his own touch.

“Yes, yes!” Rick cries, “Negan, please, I want it-”

He chokes on his words as Negan turns him over onto his back and rubs his cock, hot and hard, against his softened opening. Rick’s legs instinctively come up to wrap Negan’s waist, fingers scrabbling at his back as he whimpers out one last  _please_  before Negan pushes inside.

Rick’s head snaps back, baring his throat when Negan breaches him slowly. Negan grips Rick’s hips hard, fingertips bruising, everything in him screaming to start fucking into Rick in earnest. He’s fucking  _perfect_ \- tight and slick and warm, thighs clamped around Negan’s waist like a vice. He's pictured this more times than he can count, but there's no comparison for having Rick naked and laid out on the bed, mouth hanging open around a soundless gasp as he takes Negan's dick like a champ.

“Jesus, Rick,” Negan grits out when his hips meet Rick's ass. “Feels so fucking  _good_ , baby. You alright, Rick?"

Rick looks shaken, overwhelmed, and he nods desperately, unable to find words. He doesn't make a coherent sound until Negan withdraws almost completely, just the head left inside Rick's body before sliding deeply back inside. Then, he all but screams his answer, a shriek of "Yes, Negan!" as his back arches clear off the bed. 

Negan does his best to be gentle, make it good for Rick- rocks their hips together, buries his face in Rick’s neck and kisses every part of him he can reach, tells Rick how good he’s doing, how good he looks underneath him. He's babbling a little, he knows, mindlessly chasing the pleasure that seeks to engulf him. 

_"Good boy, Rick, that's my g-good boy. Fucking beautiful, better than I ever fucking dreamed, Rick-"_

Rick makes such pretty sounds when he’s being fucked- whimpers when Negan pushes all the way in, loud moans when Negan tips his hips up so that he’s thrusting directly into that sweet spot inside him, a choked, nearly  _pained_  cry when he comes without Negan having to touch his cock. His thighs clamp around Negan's waist like a vice, trembling as Rick pants and moans through his orgasm.

Negan’s not sure what comes over him- one second, Rick’s on his back beneath him, his mouth open and eyes clenched shut as his cock pulses between their bellies, and the next Negan’s pulled out and flipped him onto his stomach, sliding back in with hands covering Rick’s bare hips as he fucks back into him mercilessly.

 _“Negan!”_  Rick’s hands are bunched into the sheets as he cries out, aching and oversensitive. He’s fucking  _beautiful_ , Negan thinks savagely. His thighs are spread obscenely wide, Negan slotted between them like he belongs there, like he was made to fill the empty space between Rick’s legs. Rick sounds absolutely  _ruined_ , and Negan knows he's probably torturing the sensitive spot inside him, but he can't stop.

“Fuck, Rick-” Negan grits out, reaching down to grab a handful of Rick's ass. He glances down to get a glimpse of Rick's pink, abused opening stuffed full of his cock. “You’re fucking  _mine_ , baby. Nobody else can fuck you like this, Rick, it’s just me, you’re fucking mine-”

“Yours,” Rick slurs in agreement, one hand releasing its death grip on the sheets to slide up the side of Negan’s thigh. “J-just yours, Negan. Make me yours, c-c’mon…”

That’s what does it, the idea that Rick wants him to come inside him, to mark him as  _Negan’s_. He groans into Rick’s shoulder, curved over the boy like he can’t get enough, can’t be close enough, and the pleasure overtakes him completely. His vision goes dark as he rides out the high, and he devours the way Rick shudders as he’s filled, how he rolls his hips back to take Negan’s cock in deeper.  _Greedy little slut_ , Negan thinks hungrily. His thighs are burning from the effort of fucking Rick, and the moment he pulls out, he all but collapses onto his side, dragging Rick down with him to lay sweaty and tangled between the sheets.

Rick’s still breathing heavily, and Negan can feel the way his heart’s hammering against his ribs when he presses a hand there to pull him closer.

This is the part that he’s never good at anymore- the  _after_. Most of his hookups the past several years have been quick one-off things, and he didn’t make a point to stick around and chat or make the person feel welcome to stay and cuddle. Too much, too intimate. But with Rick…Negan’s insatiable. He wants everything- he’s had his body, touched and tasted and fucked him all but senseless, and still he wants this. It’s selfish, and if he was a smarter man, a kinder man, he would play things casually. Offer to let Rick shower up before he goes home for the night, because Negan  _does not spend the night with his conquests, fuck no._ They can’t work, he knows that, but he wants Rick anyway. Wants to kiss the boy’s shoulders and whisper sweet nothings into his ear make him feel good, because he wants to set the bar  _high_. He wants Rick looking back on him years from now when he’s inevitably found a cute little wife or husband and had his two-point-five children and think  _damn, he was good_.

Selfish. He’d selfishly wanted to be the first one to fuck Rick, and now that’s not even enough. He wants to be the  _best_. And he can’t do that if he unceremoniously kicks Rick out of his bed and leaves him feeling shitty about himself, now can he?

So he folds the boy into his arms, trails hisses down his neck and over his shoulders and listens to his sweet, shaky sighs of contentment. “How was it, Rick?” Like he doesn’t already know, like he didn’t watch as Rick came apart in front of him and screamed his name all the way down.

Rick rolls over, and now they’re face-to-face, sharing one pillow. Rick’s hair is adorably rumpled, his curls sticking out at odd angles, and it does something strange to Negan’s chest. “That was…really good. Really,  _really_  good.” He blushes and ducks his head beneath Negan’s chin. “Was I…did you…was I okay?” His voice is small and shy again, uncertain, and Negan is compelled to chase away any doubt that could possibly be lingering in the corners of his mind.

“You were fucking amazing, Rick. I mean it.” He kisses the top of Rick’s head, feels the way Rick smiles shyly against his skin. “Such a good boy for me,” he breathes, and Rick shudders in his arms, tilting his head up with his full lips parted, begging to be kissed. Their mouths meet, wet and open, and Negan’s hands wander down Rick’s back, squeezing his ass and running a finger through the slick mess he made there. Rick makes a soft noise into his mouth, something between a whimper and a moan, and Negan’s about to put him on his back all over again when a strident  _meow_  startles them both.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Rick says, delighted. He sits up and reaches out to pet the awfully smug-looking tabby crawling up the bed.

“Lucy,” Negan growls, annoyed. “You cockblocking fucker.”

It’s too late, though- Lucy has worked her charms and has found a new home in Rick’s arms, purring happily when the boy scratches under her chin. “Her name’s Lucy?”

Negan’s annoyed glare falters for a moment at the sound of her name in Rick’s mouth. “I- yeah. Short for Lucille.”

Rick hears it- he’s astute, and he picks up on the note of melancholy in Negan’s voice immediately. His gaze is soft, and he wriggles a little closer on the bed, hip pressed to Negan’s. “Why Lucille?”

He’s at a crossroads here. He could lie, could do that pretty easily. Tell Rick some bullshit about how Lucille was his mother or sister or grandma or something like that. Play it off.

He doesn’t want to. If he’s gonna send Rick packing, he may as well do it now, right? Get it the fuck over with.

“Lucille was my fiancée,” Negan says, reaching out to rub the cat’s ears. “She died. A few years ago.” Three years, but who’s counting? “Probably shouldn’t have named the cat after her, because when it dies, I’m gonna be fucked all over again. Pretty sure any fucking armchair psychologist would tell you it was a dumbass move.” Negan’s life is made up of dumbass moves- all the rebellious mistakes of his youth, all the heartache he caused Lucille while she was alive. She was too good for him, just like Rick is. He wishes he could say that all of his selfish recklessness began when Lucille died as a result of his grief, but that would be a big fat lie. He was a cheater, a liar, an asshole through and through. He’s made so many bad choices, and Rick seems to be the culmination of them all. But sitting here, naked and soft and looking at Negan with tenderness in his bright blue eyes, he doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not yet.

He knows it’s asking for too much, but he doesn’t want Rick to be another mistake. Another selfish fucking mistake. The boy’s too trusting, too much, and if he lingers too long around Negan and his toxic life, he’s bound to be ruined by him. There are times, even now, that he wonders if it was his shitty karma that offed Lucille.

“Any-fucking-way,” Negan mutters, “you got someplace to be, Rick? I’m not running a fucking bed and breakfast over here.”

He hears how it sounds, bunt and abrasive, and internally cringes when Rick’s face falls. “Oh. I, uh. I’ll go. I’m sorry-” he scrambles to get out of bed, tugging his clothes on hastily while Negan watches and Lucille follows him like she’s picking sides. When Rick bends over to pull his boxers back on, Negan glimpses the wet sheen of his come glistening between Rick's thighs, and he nearly calls him back to bed just so he can get a better view of  _that._

 _You need to let him leave. You need to let this be a one-time mistake and move the fuck on_ , he tells himself.

Rick won’t look at him, his shoulders slumped with shame, and he disappears out the bedroom doorway without another word.

_Let him go._

Lucille sits in the doorway, tail flicking judgmentally, green eyes narrowed at him.

_Goddammit._

He yanks on his boxers and bolts after Rick just in time to see the boy opening the front door.

“Rick. Rick! Fucking wait, alright?” He plants a palm on the door, craning his neck to see Rick’s face, and immediately feels sick with himself. His face is flushed, unshed tears of hurt in his eyes, and it feels like a rebuke.  _Look what you’ve done_ , it says.

“Rick,” he softens, cupping the boy’s face in his hands. “I’m…shit. I’m sorry. Don’t fucking cry, Rick.”

Rick glares up at him through glazed eyes. “You got what you wanted.”

It’s a slap to the face, and he deserves it, but he can't let Rick leave like this, thinking that all Negan wanted was to have his fun with him and then toss him aside when he was done.

“No,” Negan says quietly. “No, I didn’t. I want you to stay, Rick.” Rick’s glare doesn’t waver. “Stay the night, Rick. I shouldn’t have said that shit to you, right? I’m sorry.” He gives him a weak, hangdog look. “Stupid cat made me think about Lucille. Made me overthink this shit. I didn’t mean it, Rick. I just haven’t had anyone stay the night in a long fucking time. But I’m asking you. Stay the fucking night.”

For all Negan knows, this could be a disaster waiting to happen. But Rick looks at him and smiles, tentative and hopeful, and if there’s a storm ahead he can’t see it through the blue sky in Rick’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /casually deletes the "unresolved" part of the tags...
> 
> So this is the end! Thanks so much to everyone for all the comments and kudos, I was really surprised that people enjoyed this story so much and the reception was definitely what pushed me to give this 4 chapters instead of 1-2 like I'd planned originally!


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